Welcome to the Moulin Rouge
by Mimi Tsukiyomi7567
Summary: Alfred is a writer from America, come to France to write about Truth, Beauty, Freedom, and Love. Arthur is the courtesan he falls in love with, with a dream to become a real actor. Moulin Rouge AU, UsUk. Rated M for suggestive themes and content, and language.
1. Chapter 1

**Hello and welcome to the Moulin Rouge, UsUk edition. If you haven't seen the movie Moulin Rouge then I am forced to question the meaning of your life and strongly suggest that you go watch it right now. This first chapter will be a little weird in terms of how I'm telling it and I don't know how long it will continue like this but here's how it's gonna go. **_"Things italicized and in quotes are either singing or Alfred's father's words."_ _Things just italicized and NOT in quotes is Alfred's narration and what he's typing on the typewriter. _And normal font is my narration.

**I hope you enjoy this first chapter!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia or Moulin Rouge.**

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_Welcome to the Moulin Rouge_

_Paris, 1900_

_"There was a boy . . . A very strange enchanted boy . . . They say he wandered very far . . . very far . . . over land and sea . . . A little shy and sad of eye . . . but very wise was he . . . And then one day . . ."_

The world was dark. The skies were grey. The life seemed to have been sucked out of everything and everyone.

Inside his run down apartment sat a man on the floor in a fetal position, surrounded by the darkness of the room and discarded papers. In his hand he held a bottle of the devil's nectar.

_"A magic day . . . he passed my way . . ."_

He slowly looked up at the typewriter on his desk, more bottles and papers set around it.

_"And while we spoke of many things . . . fools and kings . . . this he said to me . . ."_

He picked himself up from his spot on the floor and walked to his desk, never taking his eyes off the typewriter. He sat down. And began to type.

_"The greatest thing you'll ever learn is just to love and be loved in return."_

Remembering the line he once wrote himself brought tears to his eyes. But this was nothing new. He cried a lot these days.

_The Moulin Rouge. A nightclub. A dance hall and a bordello. Ruled over by Francis Bonnefoy. A kingdom of nighttime pleasures, where the rich and powerful came to play with the young and beautiful creatures of the underworld. The most beautiful of all these was the man I loved._

_Arthur._

_A courtesan. He sold his love to men. They called him "the Sparkling Diamond", and he was the star of the Moulin Rouge._

He stopped typing and looked out his window. He had a small balcony where he often stood just looking across the way. Just across from his window could be seen the Moulin Rouge.

_The man I loved..._

_is..._

_...dead._

_I first came to Paris one year ago. It was 1899, the summer of love. I knew nothing of the Moulin Rouge, Francis Bonnefoy, or Arthur. The world had been swept up in the bohemian revolution, and I had traveled from America to be a part of it._

Stepping off the train in Paris was young Alfred F. Jones. Golden blonde hair like fields of wheat, bright blue eyes that shone like the summer sky, and thin glasses perched on the bridge of his nose. Though how ironic. An American coming to Europe for opportunity. Haha.

_On the hill near Paris was the village of Montmartre. It was not, as my father had said-_

_"A village of sin!"_

_But the center of the bohemian world. Musicians, painters, writers. They were known as 'the children of the revolution.'_

It was much sunnier then. Music could always be heard, laughter and chatter always nearby. There was life everywhere.

Alfred stepped into his new and clean apartment, one bag in hand. He looked out his window at the world, at his new home.

_Yes, I had come to live a penniless existence. I had come to write about truth, beauty, freedom, and that which I believed in above all things-love._

He sat down at his desk, clear of anything but his brand new, never before used typewriter. He was ready to start.

_"Always this ridiculous obsession with love!"_

_There was only one problem-I'd never been in love._

_Luckily, right at that moment, an unconscious Spaniard fell through my roof._

Alfred jumped up from his seat and yelped in bewilderment at his surprise guest. The poor unconscious man was hung upside down by a rope tied to his ankle.

_He was quickly joined by an albino dressed as a nun._

Without even knocking, an albino man came bursting in through his door, swinging a cane around.

"Guten tag! I am the awesome Gilbert Beilschmidt. Sorry for the interuption."

"What?"

"We were just upstairs rehearsing a play."

"What?"

Alfred was still trying to take in the fact someone just broke through his roof five minutes after moving in. He certainly won't be bored here.

_A play, something very modern called Spectacular Spectacular._

"And it's set in Switzerland," said the man, apparently named Gilbert.

_Unfortunately, the unconscious Spaniard suffered from a sickness called narcolepsy._

"Perfectly fine one moment, then suddenly unconscious the next," Gilbert explained.

Then came a voice from above, "How is he?"

Alfred and his new albino friend looked up at the hole in the ceiling to see three more men looking in on them. The one who spoke was a man with dark hair, glasses, and a beauty mark near the corner of his mouth. On either side of him were two blonde men, both of them with green eyes. One had bangs and a neutral expression on his face, while the other's hair was parted down the middle. This one was trying to hold in his laughter at the situation.

Seeing the Spaniard still wasn't awake, the man with the glasses spoke again. "Wonderful. Now Antonio is unconscious again. Therefore, the scenario will not be finished in time to present to the financier tomorrow."

The blonde with the neutral expression spoke next. "Roderich is right, Gilbert. I still have to finish the music."

"Well Vash, we'll just have to find someone to read the part."

The other blonde was the one to speak up this time. "Like, where are we going to find someone to read the role of a young, totally sensitive Swiss poet/goat herder?"

Before Vash could volunteer, everyone else quickly looked at their nearly forgotten host.

_Before I knew it, I was upstairs, standing in for the unconscious Spaniard._

Alfred stood on a ladder made to look like a mountain, dressed as a goat herder, trying to block out Gilbert's awful singing. And to be honest the music wasn't very good either. The whole thing was just kind of a mess.

_"The hills animate with the euphonious symphonies of descant."_

"Stop! Stop stop stop stop," Roderich, who was apparently the writer and director of their play, waved his arms around, getting everyone to stop what they were doing.

"Stop that insufferable droning, it's drowning out my words! Can we please just stick to a little decorative piano?"

_There seemed to be artistic differences over Roderich's lyrics to Vash's songs._

"Like, I don't think a nun would, like, say that about a hill," said the other blonde, Feliks, Alfred later came to find out.

Vash suggested, "What if he sings, 'The hills are vital, intoning the descant'?"

"The hills quake and shake," Gilbert tried.

"No no no no, The hills-"

Everyone looked over when suddenly the Spaniard on the bed in the corner sat up, awake long enough to give his suggestion. "The hills are incarnate with symphonic melodies!" And just like that he was unconscious again. So the others just turned away and continued their bickering.

Alfred had his own idea too, but every time he tried to say something, his voice was drowned out by the many other voices in the room. He waved his arms about, trying to get someone's attention.

"The hills-"

"Are chanting the eternal mantra."

"Frank is living in my foot."

"The hills are-"

"No no..."

Alfred couldn't take it anymore. So instead of arguing, he sang.

_"The hills are alive with the sound of music."_

Suddenly the room was quiet. Everyone had frozen, taking in what they had just heard. It had even caused Antonio to wake up. He jumped out of bed and stomped over, gaining everyone's attention.

"The hills are alive with the sound of music...I love it!"

Finally everyone was regaining their senses.

"The hills are alive-"

"With the sound-"

"Of music!"

Vash turned to Alfred, for once a look of shock and maybe some happiness showing on his face.

"It fits perfectly."

_"With songs they have sung for a thousand years," _Alfred continued.

The only one who didn't seem impressed or thrilled in any way was Roderich.

"Roddy, you two should write the show together," Gilbert suggested.

"I beg your pardon?"

_But Gilbert's suggestion that Roderich and I write the show together was not what Roderich wanted to hear._

"Goodbye!" Roderich shouted on his way out before slamming the door behind him.

The others brushed it off fairly easily. As Alfred stepped off the ladder, Gilbert addressed him as he drank something green from a glass.

"Here's to your first job in Paris."

"But Gilbert, Francis will, like, never agree. No offense, but have you ever, like, written something like this before?"

"No," Alfred admitted.

Antonio shouted, "Ah! The boy has natural talent!" He extended his arms out dramatically, accidentally putting his hand on the American's crotch. "I like him!" Alfred gasped at the sudden touch to such a place and tensed up.

Realizing where his hand was, the Spaniard quickly lowered his hands and laughed awkwardly. "Heh...nothing funny, I just like talent."

"The hills are alive with the sound of music. See, you guys, with Alfred we can write the truly bohemian revolutionary show that we've always dreamt of," said Gilbert.

Vash argued, "But how will we convince Francis?"

_But Gilbert had a plan._

"Arthur."

_They would dress me in the Spaniard's best suit and pass me off as a famous American writer. Once Arthur heard my modern poetry, he would be astounded and insist to Francis that I write Spectacular Spectacular. The only problem was, I kept hearing my father's voice in my head._

_"You'll end up wasting your life at the Moulin Rouge with a cancan dancer!"_

Alfred rushed to escape to the hole in the floor, a ladder placed there to lead back down to his own room.

"No, I can't write the show for the Moulin Rouge!"

Before he could get very far down the ladder, the others had followed him and stopped him at the top of the ladder.

"Why not?"

"I don't even know if I am a true bohemian revolutionary."

They looked taken aback, almost insulted that he thought he wasn't one of them.

Gilbert questioned, "Do you believe in beauty?"

"Yes."

Antonio, "Freedom?"

"Yes, of course."

Vash, "Truth?"

"Yes."

Feliks, "Love?"

Alfred looked at Feliks. "Love? Love...Above all things, I believe in love. Love is like oxygen. Love is a many-splendored thing. Love lifts us up where we belong, all you need is love!"

By the end of his mini speech he was grinning a thousand watt smile, speaking of his passion for something he himself had never felt. Everyone else above him were also smiling now, even Vash had the tiniest of smiles.

"See, you can't fool us," Gilbert laughed. "You're the voice of the children of the revolution!"

"We can't be fooled," the others said in unison.

They pulled the American out of the hole in the floor, Gilbert holding up a glass.

"Let's drink to the new writer of the world's first bohemian revolutionary show!"

The Spaniard kissed Alfred in the moment of excitement and passion. "Mwah!"

_It was the perfect plan. I was to audition for Arthur, and I would taste my first glass of...absinthe._

Passed around was a tray of flaming green drinks. Everyone seemed excited and eager to drink, and Alfred wasn't one to be a party pooper. But he didn't know at the time of the hallucinogenic properties of absinthe. So with his first drink, the show began.

On the bottle of the green spirit drink was a picture of a fairy, a girl with long brunette hair, green eyes, and pink flowers in her hair. After their first drink, she came alive, flying right off the bottle.

"I'm the green fairy~"

Alfred was amazed at what he saw. And judging by the others' reaction, they could see her, too.

She sang, _"The hills are alive with the sound of music."_

They all laughed and enjoyed the little dance the fairy was putting on for them. They stood out on the balcony of the building, just above the sign that read _L'amour_. They danced and sang along with the fairy as she wrote the words in the air with green fairy dust.

_"Yeah. Freedom, beauty, truth, and love."_

_"The hills are alive,"_

_"No, you won't fool the children,"_

_"With the sound of music."_

_"Of the revolution."_

_"The revolution is here!"_

_We were off to the Moulin Rouge. And I was to perform my poetry for Arthur._

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**I hope you enjoyed this first chapter! Not all the chapters are going to be this long probably.**

**Trivia: Absinthe is not actually a hallucinogenic drink, but it was portrayed as one in the movie so I decided to keep it the same. Also, the green fairy is because absinthe is commonly referred to as "la fée verte" which means "the green fairy".**

**Thank you for reading, please leave reviews, I hope to see you again soon!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Here's the second chapter of Welcome to the Moulin Rouge. Heads up, there is crossdressing from Arthur and other characters throughout the story.**

**Enjoy the chapter!**

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_Welcome to the Moulin Rouge_

Inside the Moulin Rouge, time seemed to flow differently. Alfred looked around, dressed up in one of Antonio's finer suits, feeling so out of place. Surrounded by the chaos of men and women dancing and drinking, everything around him appeared to be in slow motion. Colors blending together, laughter and singing echoing and sounding so far away though it was everywhere. It was much more than he imagined the Moulin Rouge could be.

From behind a red velvet curtain came a man with wavy shoulder length blonde hair a couple shades lighter than his own, blue eyes that sparkled with amusement, and a light stubble on his chin. He wore a suit with a red jacket with black lapels and black slacks, and a black top hat adorning his head. In his white gloved hand he carried a decorative cane, the top of which looked like a silver rose.

Behind him came a group of dancers, each of them with their own unique dress and accessories. Alfred was surprised to see that some of the dancers were males wearing female clothing as well, but he didn't think too much on it since this place was full of surprises and he couldn't focus much on just one thing for too long. A group of four dancers stood out more than the rest. They stood in front of the rest of the cancan dancers, making themselves look more like stars.

Two of them were Italian men, they must have been twins with how alike they looked. One of the Italians had short dark redish brown hair, a strange curl coming off to the side, and amber colored eyes with a green tint to them. His twin had lighter redish brown hair, a curl on the other side of his head from his brother's, and almost golden eyes.

On either side of the twin brothers stood two women. One had shoulder length blonde hair with a green ribbon tied in it like a headband, and dark green eyes. The other had a naturally darker tone to her skin than everyone else. She had long dark hair tied in pigtails with red ribbons, and honey colored eyes.

They stood confidently, their presence demanding attention, which they got without a problem from guests and other dancers alike. The crowd cheered for them, excited for the performance to come.

_Francis Bonnefoy, and his infamous dancers. They called them his "Diamond Dogs"._

The four main dancers moved towards the crowd, giving seductive looks as they sang.

_"Voulez-vous coucher avec moi ce soir."_

The whole room erupted in hoots and hollers from the rich men of Paris, pointing and drooling over the cancan dancers' colorful and lacy underwear they felt no shame in showing.

_"Hey, sista, go, sista, soul sista, flow, sista."_

Mr. Francis Bonnefoy joined his dancers in song, always one to partake in the show instead of just watching.

_"If life's an awful bore and living's just a chore that we do 'cause death's not much fun, I have just the antidote."_

_"Go, sister, giuchie, giuchie, ya ya dada."_

_"And though I mustn't gloat at the Moulin Rouge, you'll have fun! Ooh la la!"_

Next to Alfred, Gilbert had his eyes on a pretty backup dancer while Vash looked a little uncomfortable at the attention he was paid every once in a while.

_"Just scratch that little niggle, have a little wiggle."_

_"Creole Lady Marmalade."_

The whole room was a large dance floor, cancan dancers and well dressed gentlemen having the time of their lives. Soon Alfred and company were swept up with the other men, who began a song and dance of their own, to another large room. Alfred, not knowing the words or moves just did his best to keep up and keep quiet, all the while looking around trying to take everything in.

_"Got some dark desire," _Francis continued.

_"Love to play with fire, Why not let it rip," _At this, the dancers lifted up their bright and colorful skirts, flashing their panties.

_"Live a little bit."_

The crowds of men and dancers blended together.

_"Here we are now, entertain us."_

_"Voulez-vous coucher avec moi."_

_"'Cause we can cancan!"_

_"Outside it may be raining, but in here it's entertaining!" _

There were girls riding on ponies, women holding snakes, some dressed as mermaids or fairies, and men dancing on tables in skirts.

_"The Moulin Rouge is the place to be!"_

_"'Cause we can cancan, yes, we can cancan."_

Drunk men sang, _"Here we are now, entertain us."_

_"Outside things may be tragic, but in here we feel it's magic."_

Suddenly the music stopped and everyone went quiet, all movement came to a halt. You could hear a pin drop in the silence when Francis whispered from the front stage, "The cancan." The people in the room spun off, clearing the dance floor until only the cancan dancers were left. Then just as suddenly as the music stopped, it came back with a bang.

_"Because we can cancan!"_

_"Hey, sista, go, sista, soul sista, flow, sista."_

_"Giuchie, giuchie, ya ya dada."_

_"Creole Lady Marmalade."_

They danced wildly, spinning each other around, lifting their skirts, and doing splits with ease. Even the men in dresses and heals were able to move around like they had worn them their whole lives. Alfred noticed the two Italians kept close to each other at all times, almost never dancing with anyone besides each other. Sometimes the younger one would dance with a strong looking blonde man with his hair slicked back, leaving his older twin to his own devices. But he managed well enough, sending a glare the man's way. Alfred assumed the strong blonde worked there as well, with the way he was dressed. He wore a sparkling white suit vest with black slacks and a top hat, a white bedazzled bow tie around his neck.

At some point the guests had rejoined the dancers on the floor. Alfred's new friends dragged him out to dance as well, the excitement and fun in the room causing something to bubble up inside him. Even though he wouldn't be heard by anyone but those closest to him over the music, he sang,

_"'Cause it's good for your mind!"_

He laughed and danced with his friends until Gilbert pulled him over to a table he grabbed. They all gathered in, Gilbert whispering, "Mission accomplished. We successfully evaded Francis."

Just then the music faded out. The lights dimmed, grabbing everyone's attention as they quieted. In the center of the dance floor fell shiny confetti and a mist turned slightly blue by the spotlights. Everyone looked up, knowing what this meant.

"It's him, the Sparkling Diamond," said Gilbert to Alfred, who was the only one confused.

Down with the raining confetti and smoke came a man sitting cross-legged on a trapeze swing, being lowered high above everyone's heads. Alfred couldn't keep his eyes off of him. He was lithe, and shorter than him from what Alfred could tell. He was pale, but not sickly. He had short, messy blonde hair that even though it was a bit out of control, it suited him well. He wore a short sparkling silver dress that looked littered with small diamonds, the spaghetti straps also lined with diamonds. On his arms he wore long black silk gloves that came up past his elbows. His smooth legs, looking longer with the black heals he wore, were donned with black fishnet stockings. And on his head he also wore a black top hat, much like many of the other men in the room, but his of course had rows of diamonds wrapped around the rim. Around his wrists and neck was more diamond jewelry, and in his ears he had sparkling studs.

While he was very...sparkly, as his name would suggest, what really drew Alfred in was his eyes. They were the most beautiful shade of emerald green he had ever seen, and sparkled more than the diamonds he donned. They reminded Alfred of the grass after a summer rain shower, or the forests in fairytail books. They were magical.

_"The French are glad to die for love."_

His voice was clear and strong. It was a sound that Alfred could listen to forever.

_"They delight in fighting duels."_

_But someone else was to meet Arthur that night._

Sitting just behind Alfred and his table of friends, separated by a thin wall and some red curtains, sat a man next to Francis with light blonde, almost white, hair. He stared at Arthur, like everyone else, with intense violet eyes.

_"But I prefer a man who lives,"_

_Francis' investor._

_"And gives expensive jewels."_

The lights came back on, the music starting back up. Arthur leaned back in his seat, reaching his arm down as he was lowered more and spun around the room in a circle. Men cheered and reached for his hand, some holding up money or other gifts for him.

_The Duke. Ivan Braginski._

Finally Arthur was lowered enough he could get off of the swing, standing in the center of the crowd of men. Lovino, the older of the Italian twins, sat in a throne-like chair at the edge of the dance floor. He and his brother Feliciano, along with their two female companions Bella and Michelle, sang backup for Arthur. Even if Lovino had a slight frown on his face, he still enjoyed singing.

_"A kiss on the hand may be quite continental, but diamonds are a girl's best friend. A kiss may be grand, but it won't pay the rental on your humble flat or help you feed your pussycat."_

Gentlemen all around him held out money for him but he just ignored them, not interested in the pieces of paper.

_"Men grow cold as girls grow old, and we all lose our charms in the end."_

Arthur turned around and gave his ass a little wiggle for the crowd. He was then lifted up onto the shoulders of two strong coworkers. From his place high up, he reached for and snatched up a diamond necklace that was offered to him by a guest.

_"But square-cut or pear-shaped, these rocks won't lose their shape. Diamonds are a girl's best friend,"_ he sang as he admired the jewels.

The Duke, Ivan, leaned in to speak with Francis, never taking his eyes off of Arthur. "When am I going to meet him?"

"After this song, I've arranged a special meeting. Just you and Monsieur Arthur. Totally alone." Francis gave Ivan a pointed look, the Russian man finally taking his eyes off of Arthur to look back at him. "Really?"

"Tiffany's!" Arthur yelled the brand name.

At the same time, Gilbert and company had leaned in on Alfred again to discuss their plans for the night. "I've arranged a private meeting after his number, just you and Arthur totally alone."

Alfred questioned nervously, "Alone?"

"Cartier," Arthur blew kisses all around.

"Yes, totally alone," Francis and Gilbert unknowingly said in unison.

Back on the dance floor, a man tried to offer Arthur a small bouquet of flowers. Having no interest in such things, he swatted them right out of his hands then pushed the man to the floor before climbing on top and straddling him.

_"'Cause we are living in a material world, and I am a material girl."_

Arthur stood up and blew the man on the floor a kiss before walking away from him. The man just stared, still hypnotized from the experience.

Once again standing in the center of the crowd of men, Arthur said in a seductive voice, "Come and get me, boys." He was lifted up into the air again, letting out a holler in his excitement.

"Oh my..." Alfred muttered, watching Arthur's performance again, feeling a little blood travel south.

Francis excused himself from Ivan's presence when he saw Arthur being carried to a small platform.

"Black Star, Roscor. Talk to me, Francis Bonnefoy, tell me all about it!"

Francis laughed as he joined Arthur on the small stage.

_"There may come a time when a lass needs a lawyer."_

_"But diamonds are a girl's best friend," _Francis, Lovino and the other's sang backup. Francis dangled a diamond necklace above Arthur, the Brit pouting as he reached for it but failed to grasp it.

_"There may come a time when a hard-boiled employer thinks you're awfully nice."_

Arthur bent over and shook his ass in front of Francis. When the Frenchman reached to touch, Arthur stood back up strait and slapped his hand away.

_"But get that ice or else no dice."_

"Don't worry, don't worry. I'll sally forth and tee things up," Gilbert said to the group before turning away, accidentally knocking over a tray of drinks. Unfortunately for him, they landed right on Ivan. Gilbert quickly went to work trying to help him dry off, spewing out apologies.

"Is the Duke here, frog?" Arthur asked as they danced.

"Angelterre, would I let you down?" Francis looked over to where Ivan was and gasped at the sight of Gilbert bothering him.

"Then where is he?"

"He's the one Gilbert is shaking a hankey at."

When the handkerchief the albino was using got too soaked, he turned to Alfred for another one. "Hey, I'm gonna borrow this." He reached into Alfred's jacket, taking his and shaking it unfolded.

Arthur looked over to where Gilbert was, squinting his eyes to see the man next to him. An American with neat blonde hair, glasses, and an impressive pair of blue eyes. Arthur had to admit he was handsome. Though he looked a little young to be a Duke. He turned away and back to Francis, asking, "Are you sure?"

"Let me check." Francis looked back at where he last saw Gilbert. The albino was back by Ivan's side, using Alfred's hankey to further dry Ivan's shirt. "Yup, that's the one. I hope that demonic little loon doesn't frighten him off," he commented, referring to Gilbert.

While Gilbert tried to help, all he got were protests of being touched and dirty looks from the man. Pissed he didn't get any gratitude, he threw the handkerchief at Ivan's face. "Clean yourself off then, you arschloch!" But when he turned to leave he ran into the chest of a very tall and frightening man whom he assumed was the man's bodyguard. Gilbert looked up to face him and paled at the sight. His blue eyes were narrowed behind thin frames and he gave off a very menacing aura. Inside his jacket could be seen a pistol. Not like he needed it, Gilbert was scared enough. "S-Sorry, sorry," Gilbert stuttered before finally leaving.

On the platform came a group of cancan dancers. They lifted their skirts up acting like curtains to cover Arthur while he changed costumes.

"Will he invest?"

"After spending the night with you, how could he refuse?"

One other dancer came inside the wall of skirts, bringing him a change of clothes.

"What's his type? Wilting flower?" Arthur looked down and pouted lightly, seeming innocent. "Bright and bubbly?" He smiled and giggled. "Or smoldering temptress?" He purred in a way that almost sounded like an animalistic growl.

"I'd say smoldering temptress."

Arthur sighed and rolled his eyes, not looking forward to that. He knew how much energy and acting it would take to keep that one up. He played the part beautifully but was best at being a wilting flower.

"We're all relying on you, Arthur."

On the outside of the makeshift changing room, Lovino and his crew danced to keep the crowd entertained. Shouting an "Olé!" he attracted the attention of a certain Spaniard in the room.

_"He's your guy when stocks are high, but beware when they start to descend."_

"Remember, a real show in a real theater with a real audience. And you'll be-"

Arthur looked up from the hand mirror he was holding. "A real actor..." He looked down, sighing lightly. For a moment he was lost in his own thoughts, his own desires. For years he's wanted to be a real actor, not wasting his talents on this. He pulled himself from his mind and put on a smile when he heard his queue coming up. He stood up strait and the wall of cancan dancers came down.

_"'Cause that's when those louses go back to their spouses."_

Arthur now wore a longer dress, this one a light green, the skirt made of hundreds of feathers. He also had on long white gloves that came up to his upper arms. Gilbert tried to get his attention from the crowd but Arthur ignored him in favor of being carried over to where Alfred was sitting.

_"Diamonds are a girl's best friend."_

By the time he sang the last word he was standing in front of the young American, who stared up in awe at the Brit.

"I believe you were expecting me," Arthur smiled at him.

Alfred barely registered that he said anything. But when he finally realized he was being spoken to he muttered out a "Yes".

Arthur turned to the crowd and announced, "I'm afraid it's my choice." Then he turned back and pointed at Alfred, expecting him to get up and dance with him. Antonio patted Alfred's shoulder congratulating him on gaining Arthur's attention. Feliks and Vash offered a "nice going" and encouraged him to get up. But when Alfred didn't make a move to do so, Arthur made an insulted noise and turned to the crowd pouting, earning an "awww" from them.

Alfred and his friends were surprised by the crowd's reaction, the American blushing at the attention and expectation of him to dance. The audience began chanting Arthur's name. Gilbert came back at this time.

"I see you've met my American friend!"

"I'll take care of him, Gil," Arthur said before turning back to Alfred and taking both of his larger hands into his. "Let's dance."

Gilbert laughed as Alfred was whisked away to the dance floor. "Hit him with your best poem, Al!"

The audience cheered again at Arthur's success of getting Alfred up, the American reluctantly following him.

_"Feel the beat of the rhythm of the night. Dance until the morning light," _Feliciano sang, now that Arthur was preoccupied.

_"Forget about the worries on your mind. You can leave them all behind."_

Arthur danced around, having a good time. Alfred was a bit awkward. He was never much of a dancer and he was feeling flustered in Arthur's presence. Some other men from the crowd pushed him forward encouraging him. But not matter how awkward Alfred was being, Arthur ignored it and danced with him anyway, wrapping his arms around the other's neck.

"It's going well," Vash mused.

"Incredible," Antonio added, though he wasn't looking at Alfred and Arthur, his eyes on a certain Italian.

"He has a gift," Feliks commented as if ignoring how bad of a dancer Alfred was.

"I told you, he's a genius," Gilbert bragged, feeling he was the one who discovered the American.

Getting close to Alfred, a little too close for comfort, Arthur ran his hands down his chest and stomach then back up, making the young American shiver.

"So nice of you to take an interest in our little show," the Brit commented in the middle of the dance.

"It's very exciting. I'd be happy to be involved," Alfred yelled over the loud music.

Arthur was surprised to hear that the Duke actually wanted to participate instead of just giving them the money and watching from the sidelines how it all turned out. "Really?"

"Assuming you like what I do."

The British dancer suppressed a blush, thinking of course the other was referring to how well he performed in bed. "I'm sure I will."

Alfred was finally starting to get into the dance, the light conversation with the other giving him some confidence. Arthur had his arms around the other's neck again, Alfred's hands on the Brit's waist.

"Gilbert thought we could do it in private."

Arthur raised a bushy eyebrow (Alfred was just noticing them now that he was closer and there wasn't a hat covering them). Of course Arthur assumed they would do it privately beforehand. Did the Duke think they were just going to have sex in front of everyone on the dance floor?

"Did he?"

"Yes, you know, a uh...private-" Alfred paused when he dipped the other back, continuing when he pulled him back up. "-poetry reading."

"Ohhh." So he had a little dirty poetry to read to him before the actual sex. Of course his mind went to dirty places, even when the American meant nothing of the sort, it was a part of his job. "I love a little poetry after supper." Arthur stepped back, needing more room for the end of his dance. As the song went on, Arthur had wandered away from Alfred.

"Hang on to your hats!" Arthur yelled before lifting his skirt and doing a high kick, the men in the room tossing their top hats into the air.

By the time they were raining back down, Arthur had sat back on his trapeze swing from his entrance. Being raised back up, high above the sea of men below, he sang the final lines of his number.

_"Diamonds. Diamonds."_

Alfred had made it back to their table, looking bummed out that Arthur had to go. His friends all patted him on the back and shoulders, congratulating and trying to cheer him up.

_"Square-cut or pear-shaped, these rocks won't lose their shape. Diamonds are a girl's best-" _he went to take a deep breath for the last note. But instead he gasped in pain. He couldn't breathe. When he tried to take in air, something got in the way. The room got silent, at least to Arthur it seemed that way. The only sound he could hear was is own gasping for air. And no one seemed to notice anything was wrong. Francis was the first to notice something was amiss when Arthur didn't continue singing. But before he could do anything about it, Arthur fainted, falling backwards off the swing and into the crowd.

Francis shouted, "No!"

The crowd parted, revealing Ludwig, the muscular man who danced with Feliciano earlier that night. And in his arms was the unconscious Arthur. The room was truly silent now. Alfred had stood up to get a better look at what happened, the worry evident on his face. Francis nodded for Ludwig to bring Arthur backstage.

Once they were out of sight, the Frenchman clapped and laughed, trying to play it off as part of the act. The audience clapped and cheered along, easily buying into Francis' act. But Alfred wasn't as convinced.

Backstage Ludwig was carrying Arthur through, performers and stagehands looking in to see if he's alright. When they passed Lovino and Feliciano, the older twin smirked. "Doesn't look like the Duke will be getting his money's worth tonight."

"Fratello, that's an awful thing to say..."

As soon as Ludwig placed Arthur down on a small bed, a petite Japanese man with short black hair and golden brown eyes pushed his way through the gathering people to the unconscious Brit. "Excuse me. Please move, give him some air." He knelt down beside him and opened a bottle of smelling salts, holding it under Arthur's nose. This roused him from his unconscious state and he blinked his eyes open, taking deep breaths. The Asian man smiled at him relieved.

Arthur wiped the sweat from his forehead and cleared his throat. "Kiku..." He looked around at everyone who came to see him and smiled, trying to play it off as nothing. "These silly costumes...a little tight..."

"It's alright, Arthur-san, just a fainting spell."

Kiku was sort of a stage manager, but was also like a parental figure for many of the dancers that lived in the Moulin Rouge. He was sort of a...mother hen. He took care of the dancers like a mother would.

Another Asian man came up, this one with long dark brown hair in a ponytail and almost yellow eyes. "Is he alright, aru?"

"Nothing for you to be worried about," Kiku answered the doctor.

"Well why's everyone just standing around then? Go on, get out, there's guests to entertain," the Chinese doctor shooed the spectators away.

It was then Arthur started to cough, trying to clear his throat of whatever was blocking the airway. Kiku held a white handkerchief to the other's mouth while he coughed, the Brit passing out again once he was finished. When Kiku looked down at the once white hankey, he was shocked and horrified to see it stained red. A feeling of dread sank into the pit of his stomach at the sight.

* * *

**Wow this chapter turned out a lot longer than any of my previous chapters, from either of the stories I've been working on. And what's more, I wrote it all in one day, holy shit! I'm so proud of myself.**

**Yes, I decided to make Italy, Romano, Belgium, and Seychelles the Diamond Dogs. And I know I didn't give a name yet, but Russia's bodyguard is Sweden. I did think about making Belarus the bodyguard for obvious reasons, but Sweden is bigger and stronger looking so I wanted to use him instead. It's a visual thing, I know Belarus can be scary and menacing, but since Sweden is much taller and is a man I figured he'd work better for the part.**

**I've noticed I always make Russia the bad guy. Not that I think he's evil or anything, I just really didn't know who to make the Duke in this and he was the best match I had.**

**So I think I've decided that I won't update this until I get...let's say 5 reviews. And I want to keep this going so REVIEW!**

**See you next time!**


	3. Chapter 3

**I know I said I'd wait until I got 5 reviews but the few reviews I got were so wonderful and made me so happy that I'm updating anyway.**

**And I know it's been quite a while since I updated. But with the holiday season here I've been a little busy and pretty soon I'll be in Florida for Christmas and New Years, so I won't be able to update while I'm there.**

**Anyways, enough of my rambling, I hope you enjoy this chapter!**

* * *

_Welcome to the Moulin Rouge_

Once Arthur woke up again, he was feeling as good as new, like the fainting incident never happened. So Kiku brushed it off. For now. While the party still raged on in the grand hall, the small Asian man was in Arthur's private dressing room helping the star get ready for his meeting with the Duke.

"The Duke seemed to really like you. With a patron like him, you could be the next Sarah Bernhardt."

Sarah Bernhardt was a famous French actress, said to be the most famous in the entire world at the time. Arthur even had a picture of her in the corner of his vanity mirror. She was a more than worthy role model for any aspiring actor or actress.

"Oh Kiku, you really think I can be like the great Sarah?"

"Why not? You've got the talent and with the help from that Duke, you'll be lighting up the great stages of Europe."

The thought that this could be his big chance to become a great actor like that made him the happiest he thought he could be. His time was finally coming, he would be a real actor on stage and not a night club entertainer. He would soon fly away from it all.

For the first time since Arthur's accident earlier, Francis came backstage to see how his little sparrow was, his face full of concern.

"Angelterre, is everything alright?"

"Oh yes, of course. Just a little fainting spell, that's all." Arthur glanced at Francis in the mirror while he finished his make-up.

"Excellent!" It didn't take much convincing for him to trust the other was alright. Besides, he looked fine now, not pale or wobbly at all. "You certainly had that Duke wrapped around your little finger on the dance floor."

Arthur finally turned around to face the Frenchman, hands on his hips. "How do I look?"

Francis had an inner battle going trying to keep his own hands off his star all the time, and this time was no different. "How could he possibly resist devouring you at the sight? Everything's going so well!" The Duke was practically in the palms of their hands.

* * *

In the garden of the Moulin Rouge stood a huge wooden elephant, inside of which Alfred stood waiting for Arthur to finish changing. He fidgeted in his spot, facing the window and trying to enjoy the wonderful view. But his mind was elsewhere. He was no longer worried about Arthur's well-being, if he was coming to meet with him still then he must be alright, but now he was more nervous than ever about winning his approval on his poetry. He was pulled from his thoughts when a voice spoke up from behind him.

"This is a wonderful place for a poetry reading."

Alfred turned around to face his host. He went red-faced, surprised by his ensemble. Alfred took in his appearance starting at his feet and slowly his eyes worked their way up. Arthur wore silver heals and fishnet tights, black panties with a matching corset, and a long black lace robe with angel sleeves. "Don't you agree?"

For the second time that night Alfred was so dazed by the courtesan that he barely heard what he had said. So just like last time he breathed out a "yes". But no matter how much he enjoyed Arthur's outfit, he couldn't help but think it was a little strange for the occasion.

Outside, Gilbert and company decided to look in on their new American friend. They climbed up one by one up the elephant's rope tail.

"Would you like something to eat? Or some champagne?" Arthur asked as he walked to the table with the food and ice bucket, turning his back to the other. Arthur wasn't just a common whore, he wasn't one to fuck and be done. He liked to set up the mood, work his way into the sex, treat it more like a date than just a booty call. But this time, even though he had done it plenty of times before, he was a little anxious. This was a big client and his whole future depended on how well he 'performed' tonight.

But Alfred was too nervous to take things slow. Especially since he didn't know what Arthur's intentions were. "I'd rather just get it over and done with."

"...Alright." Looks like the Duke didn't need to create a mood to get himself going. At least Arthur hoped that's why he was in a slight rush instead of it being something he was doing wrong. So Arthur sat on the bed and leaned back on his elbows, dropping his voice down to smooth and seductive. "Then why don't you come down here and we'll get it over and done with?"

Alfred, still oblivious as to why Arthur was acting so...sexy, stayed where he was. He stood awkwardly and wrung his hands together. "I prefer to do it standing," he said, still referring to poetry reading. Arthur of course thought that 'poetry reading' was some sort of code he was using for fucking, since there were so many people around when they were talking earlier. Now, he had had sex standing up before so it wasn't really anything new to him. But when he started to stand back up, Alfred interupted him. "You don't have to stand, too. It's pretty long and I want you to be comfortable."

Okay that worried Arthur a little. He briefly glanced down to Alfred's crotch, trying to imagine just how big he was. Was it really so long that he had to warn him? Had it been a problem for him in the past?

Alfred continued, "What I do is very modern and it may seem strange at first, but I think that if you're open then you might enjoy it."

Alright Arthur was a little scared now, but he didn't show it on his face. He let out a slightly awkward laugh. "I'm sure I will..."

Alfred paced around the room a little, trying to shake off his nervousness and wracking his brain for the right words. "The sky is...is..." It wasn't helping that every time he looked over at Arthur on the bed he was posed just about as sexily as he could be. So he turned his back to him and tried to concentrate. "Come on, come on," he whispered to himself.

Arthur arched his back and let out a couple moans trying to catch the American's attention. But when that didn't work he sat up. "Is everything alright?"

"Um...I'm just a little nervous...Sometimes it takes a while for...inspiration to come."

It seemed to Arthur that Alfred was having a little trouble getting it up. He appeared to be a bit too young to have that kind of problem though. But Arthur knew how to handle such a thing. He stood up and moved over to the 'Duke'.

"Oh, I get it. Let me help you with that~" The Englishman took hold of the slight bulge in the other's pants, eliciting a gasp from him. "Does that inspire you?" Without waiting to hear the answer, Arthur pushed Alfred onto the bed, deciding to take things into his own hands. Literally. "Let's make love."

"Make love?" Alfred was so confused. When did a poetry reading turn into sex? It just seemed so sudden and out of nowhere to Alfred. Before he knew it, Arthur had climbed on top of him, straddling his waist.

"You want to, don't you? You couldn't take your eyes off me while I performed."

"Well...yeah, but..." Alfred believed that sex should be reserved for those in love. And well...Alfred had never been in love. "I came to-" Arthur didn't let the other finish speaking and instead ground against him, drawing out moans and gasps. Arthur ran his hands down Alfred's chest and stomach until he reached the top of his pants.

"No, tell the truth. Can't you feel the poetry?"

Gilbert and the others had climbed to the top of the elephant. Vash, Feliks, and Antonio held the albino by his feet and lowered him hanging upside down by the window. When Gilbert was able to see the couple inside he held a thumbs up to his friends hanging him down.

When Arthur got Alfred's pants open, to the writer's horror, he gaped for a few seconds at how huge the American really was. "Big boy..." It was wasted on a virgin, really.

Gilbert covered his mouth in shock before looking up at his friends and yelling, "He's got a huge talent!"

Arthur moaned out as he rubbed against the other. "Give me your poetry, _now_!"

"Alright!" Alfred pushed Arthur onto his back and quickly rolled off the bed himself, fixing his pants before standing up. "It's a little bit funny."

Arthur raised an eyebrow in confusion, sitting up and pushing his hair back as he panted lightly. "What?"

"This...f-feeling inside. I'm not one of those who can easily hide. Is this...is this okay? Is this what you want?"

Oh. By poetry he must have meant some sort of dirty story. "Ohhh, yes. Yes, this is what I want, naughty words." The Briton laid on his back again and giggled.

"I don't have much money..."

Arthur ran his hands down his own body and let out little laughs and moans as Alfred spoke. "Oh yes!"

"But boy if I did, I'd buy a big house where we both...could live."

"It's so _good_!"

"If I were a sculptor...but then again, no. Or a man who makes potions at a traveling show."

Arthur rolled onto the floor and wrapped himself up in some blankets. "Yes, don't stop! Give me more!" Arthur knew it was ridiculous and that what the other was saying wasn't dirty at all. But he thought this was what Alfred wanted.

However, Alfred was having a hard time concentrating with the way Arthur was acting. He was wondering what mental problem the courtesan had. "I know it's not much...but it's the best I can do."

"Oh naughty! Don't stop! Yes!"

Alfred couldn't take it anymore. He wasn't even sure the other was listening to what he was saying anymore. So he turned to the window. Just like before, when no one would listen to him, when speaking failed, he sang.

_"My gift is my song!"_

Immediately Arthur stopped and sat up, looking at Alfred with surprise. On the roof, Gilbert and the others, who were all having a drink, stopped to listen as well. Alfred, happy that there was finally some silence, turned back to the Englishman.

_"And this one's for you. And you can tell everybody that this is your song."_

Arthur's act crumbled and he was stunned by Alfred's voice.

_"It may be quite simple, but now that it's done. Hope you don't mind, I hope you don't mind that I put down in words how wonderful life is now you're in the world." _Alfred turned back to the window, walking closer to it. Behind him, Arthur stood up from his spot on the floor. _"Sat on the roof, and I kicked off the moss. Well, some of these verses, well, they...they got me quite cross." _He turned back to Arthur and smiled. _"But the sun's been kind while I wrote this song. It's for people like you that keep it turned on."_ And Arthur couldn't help but genuinely smile back.

_"So excuse me forgetting,"_ Alfred took Arthur hand and led him to the window. _"But these things I do. You see, I've forgotten if they're green or they're blue. Anyway, the thing is...what I really mean...yours are the sweetest eyes I've ever seen!"_ Alfred spun the other around, leading him in a dance.

Alfred's song seemed to paint a picture. They were dancing on clouds and it rained glitter. The moon shone down on them like a spotlight and the stars twinkled brightly. Alfred jumped onto the top of the Eiffel Tower, singing out loudly.

_"And you can tell everybody this is your song! It may be quite simple, but now that it's done."_

Gilbert and friends howled at the moon and raised their glasses, feeling quite successful with the way things are going.

Arthur spun back to Alfred, his long robe swirling the clouds around him.

_"Hope you don't mind, I hope you don't mind that I put down in words how wonderful life is...now you're in the world!"_ He held the last note as he and Arthur spun in the clouds together.

"Looks like he got the job!" Gilbert yelled.

When Alfred's song finished, they were back in the elephant. Alfred held Arthur in his arms, dipping him back. Said Briton had his arms wrapped around the taller one's neck, a dreamy look in his eyes. "I can't believe it...I'm in love," Arthur whispered. "I'm in love with a young, handsome, talented duke."

The smile on Alfred's face didn't move. He just enjoyed the feeling of bliss around them. "Duke?"

"Mmm, not that the title is important, of course."

"I'm not a duke."

"Not a duke?"

"I'm a writer," Alfred said, slightly confused. Didn't Arthur know that's why he was here?

Arthur had just been about to kiss Alfred. But hearing Alfred's words, the mood around them suddenly turned sour. "What? A writer?" The Englishman frowned.

"Yes, a writer."

"No!" Arthur pulled himself from Alfred's arms, dropping his act completely now that he knew this man wasn't the duke he was trying so hard for. "Bloody hell, a writer?!"

"Gilbert said-"

"Gilbert? Oh, no...You're not another one of Gilbert's oh-so-talented, charmingly bohemian, tragically impoverished proteges?"

Alfred chuckled a little. "You might say that, yeah."

"Oh, fuck!" Alfred's smile dropped. "I'm going to kill him," threatened Arthur. "I'm going to kill him!"

Gilbert had been watching from the window again. He looked back to his friends holding him up. "I think there might be a small hitch."

"How small?" Antonio questioned.

"I might die."

"Gilbert told me-"

Arthur made his way to the door. "What about the Duke?" He opened the door. And right outside was Francis talking to Ivan, the real Duke. Arthur panicked and shut the door again. "The Duke!"

"The Duke?" Alfred hadn't a clue who the Duke was or why Arthur was so hysterical.

"Hide!" Arthur ordered, making his way back to the confused writer. "Out the back-" But before Alfred could leave, the door opened again. Arthur quickly shoved Alfred behind him, the American getting down on his knees and hiding under the courtesan's robe. Because that totally wasn't obvious. But somehow their new guests didn't notice him, so it would do for now. Arthur took a second to compose himself.

"My dear? Are you decent for the Duke? Where were you?"

When Alfred tried to take a peak at the Duke, Arthur smacked his cheek with his thigh. "I was waiting." Arthur backed up to the table so Alfred could hide behind it instead.

"My dear Ivan, let me introduce Mademoiselle Arthur Kirkland." Arthur always hated when Francis called him that, but he had to suck it up in front of the Duke.

"Mmm, how wonderful of you to take time out of your busy schedule to visit." Arthur turned his head slightly to see Alfred had hidden behind the table like he wanted.

"The pleasure is all mine, da?"

"I'll leave you two to get better acquainted," Francis said before leaving.

Ivan took Arthur's hand and kissed the top. "A kiss on the hand may be quite continental," he quoted Arthur's song.

The Briton giggled. "But diamonds are a girl's best friend."

Ivan couldn't help but laugh, too. Arthur took the Duke's top hat and sat on the bed. "I'm sure after your performance you must be thirsty." Before Ivan could turn to the table Alfred was hiding by, Arthur jumped up and yelled, "DON'T- you...just...love the view?" He tried to save himself, gesturing to the window.

The Russian Duke raised an eyebrow. "Da." When he went to turn again, Arthur tried to distract him by dancing. "Actually the performance just got me excited, I feel like dancing!" Instead of finding a way to get out, Alfred poked his head out and watched Arthur dance. Ivan started to turn for a third time. "I'd actually like a glass of-"

Arthur stopped his show and reached a hand out to stop him. "No!" Startled by Arthur's cry, Alfred ducked down again. "It's...it's a little bit funny."

"What is?" Ivan asked, generally curious.

"This..." While Ivan's back was turned, Alfred peaked up again, mouthing the words to Arthur. "Feeling...inside...I'm not one of those who can easily...hide!" At this moment Alfred accidentally knocked something off the table. He quickly ducked down before Ivan could see him when he finally turned to see what the crashing noise was.

"No!" Arthur yelled, diving down to his knees by Ivan's feet. Ivan turned back to Arthur, surprised by him hanging onto his legs as if he were begging for his life. "I don't have much money! But if I did, oh, I'd buy a big house where we both could live." Arthur glanced over to Alfred then at the door, silently telling him to go now. He looked back up at Ivan.

_"I hope you don't mind,"_ Arthur sang._ "I hope you don't mind that I put down in words,"_ He slowly made his way back up, his hands running up Ivan's body as he went. Behind the Duke, Alfred slowly rose, too.

Arthur looked into Ivan's eyes, glancing to Alfred only once. _"How wonderful life is...now you're in...the world."_

Something in Ivan sparked. "That is very beautiful," he whispered, feeling that bliss that Arthur felt when Alfred sang it to him.

"It's from _Spectacular Spectacular._ Suddenly with you here, I finally understood the true meaning of those words." Arthur wrapped his arms around the Duke's neck, pointing to the door for Alfred to see. Alfred carefully made his way to the entrance, opening the door as quietly as he could. But to his horror, he saw a tall and scary looking Swedish man standing in the hall.

"And...what meaning is that?" Alfred decided he couldn't go out that way and closed the door not so quietly. "No!" Arthur cried out, trying to cover up the sound of the door shutting. Alfred was so startled that he made a dive for a corner of the room, partially hiding behind some drapes. Ivan was going to look at the door, but was quickly distracted by Arthur's outburst. The courtesan fell onto the bed, hiding his face in a pillow and making weeping sounds. Before Ivan could question why he was crying, Arthur sat back up and pointed an accusing finger at him. "Duke! Don't you toy with my emotions! You...You must know the effect you have on me!"

Ivan was highly confused. He was happy Arthur felt so strongly about him, but also surprised at the same time. Surprised he was being so open about it so quickly that is. He was even more surprised when Arthur pulled him down on top of him. "Let's make love!"

Alfred was surprised to see that Arthur's act was just like when he was in Ivan's position. So Arthur really was just acting before.

"Make love?" Sure that's what Ivan came here to do, but he didn't expect it to happen so fast. Arthur pulled him close, his arms around him. Behind Ivan's back Arthur was waving at Alfred to get out. Arthur moaned out loudly. "Oh yes! You want to make love, don't you?" Alfred made his way to the back but stopped near the window. He looked back at Arthur, jealousy filling him. Arthur looked over and mouthed to him, "Get out of here or he'll kill you!" But when Alfred didn't make a move to leave, Arthur rolled his eyes.

"Yes, you're right. We should wait until opening night!"

"Wait?" Ivan didn't like that idea. Alfred however nodded in approval at the idea and hid behind the curtains. Arthur sat up, pushing the Duke up as well, pushing him to the door. "But I just got here."

"No no, we must wait. I'll keep in touch." Arthur opened the door and pushed Ivan out, shutting the door behind him. With the Duke now gone, Arthur turned back to Alfred who came out of hiding. The Briton was panting from the exertion of his performance, trying to take calming breaths.

"Do you have any idea..._any idea_ what would have happened...if you were found?" Arthur breathed heavily, finding it difficult to take in air. He felt dizzy and light headed, the room began to spin. His vision blurred until everything went black.

* * *

**Yay! Finally done with this chapter! I was going to make it longer but I really wanted to get it out before Christmas and I wasn't so sure how much time I'd have with holiday baking and packing for travelling would take up.**

**Well I didn't get into the college I applied to. That was pretty upsetting. So I'll need to take remedial classes to get my GPA up and try again. Stay in school kids, don't be stupid like I was.**

**Anyways, I know I'm updating this one kinda slow, but stay with me on this! I will finish it no matter how long it takes. Till next time!**

**Review please!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Hello again everyone! I know it's been almost two years, but I am back! I hope you haven't all given up on this story. I said I was going to finish it and I'm going to! No matter how long it takes!**

* * *

_Welcome to the Moulin Rouge_

_"Do you have any idea..._any idea_ what would have happened...if you were found?" Arthur breathed heavily, finding it difficult to take in air. He felt dizzy and light headed, the room began to spin. His vision blurred until everything went black._

* * *

Alfred was feeling pretty smug at having successfully gotten rid of the Duke. He knew he was being irrational. He had just met Arthur, and it wasn't like Alfred had a right to who Arthur became intimate with. It would have been incredibly uncomfortable to listen to them having sex while he hid behind some curtains, though. But something had taken root in his heart when Arthur sang with him and told him he loved him.

So it worried Alfred when Arthur started to sway dizzily. He hurried over to stabilize him, gasping in surprise when the actor suddenly fell unconscious in his arms. "Arthur…?" He looked around the room, almost hoping someone would magically appear to help him. But of course, no one was there with them. Alfred had no idea Gilbert and his friends were watching from outside. But they didn't feel the need to intervene, because from where they were it looked like the two were merely sharing a romantic embrace.

So it would seem Alfred was alone in this. He wasn't really sure what he was supposed to do. He couldn't leave the room to get help, he wasn't even supposed to be there in the first place. So he decided to start by carrying the unconscious actor to the bed. He struggled to get him there, and when he finally did, his balance was thrown off when he tried to lay him down.

A voice then came from the door, "I forgot my hat." Ivan had come back and was now frozen where he stood, his eyes enlarged with surprise. Because in front of him was the courtesan he was just with, now on the bed with another man on top of him. This was definitely foul play.

Alfred looked up from Arthur's face to Ivan, starting to internally panic.

'Oh god what am I going to do now? This looks really bad. What is he going to do to me? Arthur made it seem like he would kill me if he caught me with him. Maybe if I just explain myself to him-'

"He- he just-" he began, but was cut off when a small voice came from under him.

Arthur had regained consciousness just in time to save Alfred's ass. He wouldn't even question why the writer was on top of him at the moment. "Oh, Duke…" he said sleepily, like he just woke up from a nap. "Let me introduce you to...the writer."

Ivan had gotten over his shock and anger slowly started to take over as the controlling emotion; Jealous anger. But he still kept that smile on his face, not letting on just how upset he was getting. "The writer?" he questioned. It was obvious that he didn't really believe the courtesan.

Arthur struggled to sit up, pushing Alfred off of him. "Yes, we were…we were rehearsing," he tried.

"Ha-ha!" Ivan laughed as he closed the open door behind him. "You expect me to believe that in the arms of another man inside an elephant you were rehearsing?"

Arthur knew they were in trouble now. They would lose the Duke as an investor, the Moulin Rouge would close down, Arthur would lose his job, and he'd live on the streets until he—

"How's the rehearsal going?" Gilbert yelled as he burst in from the back door. "Well, take it from the top!"

The others came in behind him, Vash going straight for the piano in the corner. "I hope the piano is in tune."

"Like, can I offer you a drink?" said Feliks, pouring Ivan a glass of champagne.

"Let's dance!" exclaimed Antonio.

When Ivan had come back and caught their new friend, the guys thought it necessary to step in. Arthur was grateful for now, but he would definitely kill them later.

* * *

Back in his office, Francis, the little pervert, decided to look in on Arthur and the Duke. To check on them. Yeah. He went to his balcony where he had a telescope set up and pointed it at Arthur's window. He had expected to see his little star and their meal ticket getting down and dirty. What he didn't expect was a group of other men in the room, interrupting their alone time. It looked like there was a whole party going on. "Oh mon Dieu!" he yelled before rushing out of the office.

* * *

Arthur managed to settle the guys down, not wanting them to completely scare the Duke away. He knew it would take some convincing acting to make the Duke believe this was all planned. "When I spoke those words to you earlier, you filled me with such inspiration. I realized how much work we had to do, so I called everyone together for an emergency rehearsal."

"If this is an emergency rehearsal, then where's Bonnefoy?" Ivan challenged.

"Oh don't bother with—"

"Mon petit starlette!" Francis yelled as he burst through the door. "Are you alright?"

"Francis, you made it! It's alright, the Duke knows all about the emergency rehearsal," Arthur said hurriedly before Francis could say something to ruin his lie.

"Emergency rehearsal…?" Francis said cautiously. Arthur was giving him a look that said 'Trust me and go with it'.

"Yes, to incorporate the Duke's artistic ideas."

"Well I'm sure Roderich will be eager to start in the morning—" Francis started, but was interrupted by Gilbert. "Um…actually Roderich quit." "WHAT?"

"Well I guess the cat's out of the bag! The Duke here is already a fan of our new writer's work." Arthur gestured to Alfred, attention going to him now.

Well fantastic, it seemed Alfred had gotten the job after all. Even if Arthur got it for him by slipping his employment into the lie everyone had to go along with.

"And that's why he's so keen to invest," said Arthur, knowing that would hook Francis in to lie alongside him.

"Invest? Invest! Oh yes, invest! Well dear Duke, if you would come with me to my office, we can fill out the paperwork and—"

"What's the story?" Ivan interrupted. "If I'm going to invest, I'll need to know the story." Ivan still cared about the arts and he wouldn't invest in a story that was complete rubbish.

"Um…" Francis struggled to come up with something, anything. "The story is about…" But when he couldn't think of anything, he turned it over to his artistic friend. "Gil, tell him."

Now it was Gilbert's turn to flounder. "Uh…the story is…it's about…" While it was something he and his friends were working on, they hadn't developed much of a story yet. Besides, Roderich was the one writing the story, and now he was gone.

Alfred then came up with a brilliant idea. "It's about love!" Everyone looked to him once again, eager to hear what he was coming up with.

"Love?" Ivan questioned, not very impressed yet.

"It's about love…overcoming all obstacles," Alfred continued.

"And it's set in Switzerland," Gilbert added one of the few things established from their play.

But Alfred didn't like that. He had a plan, and that was to create a beautiful story based on his new exciting life. He was the writer now, so he could make some changes to the story. The elephant they were inside screamed India, with the exotic decorations; the red colors and elaborately patterned curtains, the elephant shape of little statues and the building itself. "India! It's set in India!" He turned to Arthur, who was looking at him with interest in the story he was coming up with on the spot. "And there's a courtesan. The most beautiful courtesan in the entire world…" Arthur's cheeks turned a little red, and he thought that Alfred was gazing at him with more love than any other man had.

"But the courtesan's kingdom is invaded by an evil Maharaja!" the writer exclaimed, breaking the magic between him and the courtesan he spoke of. Arthur took a deep breath, realizing that his heart was racing. "In order to save his kingdom, the courtesan must seduce the Maharaja. But on the night of the seduction, the courtesan mistakes a penniless…a penniless…" He couldn't say a penniless writer, he had to keep some things different so he wouldn't give away the fact that he was basing this story on his own experiences so far. He looked around the room a little for some inspiration and his eyes zeroed in on a sitar. "…penniless sitar player for the evil Maharaja, and he falls in love with him instead of the Maharaja!"

Alfred went over and grabbed the sitar, turning to Arthur again. "He wasn't trying to trick him or anything," he said, as if trying to defend himself to Arthur personally. "But he was dressed as a Maharaja because…he's appearing in a play!"

Antonio took the sitar from Alfred. "I will play el intérprete de sitar baile de tango! I will sing like an angel, but dance like the devil!"

Ivan was becoming genuinely interested in the story. "And what happens next?"

"The courtesan and the penniless sitar player must hide their love from the evil Maharaja," Alfred added.

Ideas were suddenly coming to everyone, wanting to take part in the plot. "The sitar is magical and can only speak the truth," Vash gave as input.

The sitar was passed to Gilbert next. "I will play the magical talking sitar!" He plucked one of the strings and turned to Arthur. "You are beautiful~" He plucked another and turned to his friend Francis next. "You are ugly."

"That's a lie!" Francis yelled, quite insulted.

The albino ignored the Frenchman and turned to Ivan next, plucking the sitar string. "And you are a—"

Several people yelled, "No!" as they rushed to cover Gilbert's mouth, not waiting to find out what he would have said.

But luckily, Ivan was just amused. "Yes, and he gives the game away?" he guessed.

They shouted, "Yes!" in excitement. The tension from before was completely forgotten, as the Duke had fallen for their lie.

"Tell him about the cancan!" Francis just loved the cancan and would insist that they include it in this play. This was where Alfred struggled though.

"It's a…tantric cancan…"

Francis took over, "It's an erotic spectacular scene that captures the thrusting, violent, vibrant, _wild _bohemian spirit that this whole production embodies."

"And…what does that mean?" Ivan asked.

"It means it will be a magnificent, opulent, tremendous, stupendous, gargantuan bedazzlement. A sensual _ravishment_! It will be—"

Vash rushed to the piano and played a fast set of high notes.

Francis sang, _"Spectacular Spectacular! No words in the vernacular can describe this great event. You'll be dumb with wonderment. Returns are fixed at ten percent. You must agree that's excellent. And on top of your fee—"_

"_You'll be involved artistically," _the others joined in singing to the Duke.

"_So exciting the audience will stomp and cheer, so delighting it will run for 50 years."_

The group of artists slowly started making their way closer to the Duke, trying to lure him into their idea that they had actually become quite excited about as they made it up. As they inched closer, they continued to sing, _"So exciting the audience will stomp and cheer, so delighting it will run for 50 years."_

They all tossed out things that they just knew had to be in this grand musical number they envisioned for this production, dancing around the room and the Duke, who was now sitting in a chair watching them. _"Elephants!" "Arabians!" "Indians!" "And courtesans!" "Acrobats!" "And juggling bears!" "Exotic girls!" "Fire eaters!" "Muscle men, contortionists, intrigue, danger, and romance! Electric lights, machinery, and all that electricity!"_

"_So exciting the audience will stomp and cheer, so delighting it will run for 50 years. So exciting the audience will stomp and cheer, so delighting it will run for 50 years."_

They dropped down to their knees, scooting across the floor closer to the Duke. _"Spectacular Spectacular! No words in the vernacular can describe this great event. You'll be dumb with wonderment."_

Feliks dropped rose petals over everyone as they sang, _"The hills are alive with the sound of music."_

Everyone suddenly ran up to Ivan and lifted up the chair he was sitting in, alarming him as he was spun around. _"So exciting the audience will stomp and cheer, so delighting it will run for 50 years. So exciting the audience will stomp and cheer, so delighting it will run for 50 years!" _They sat him back down and gave a finishing pose.

"Yes, but…what happens in the end?" Ivan asked, still recovering from being picked up.

The artists looked between each other, no one having come up with an end yet. They quickly got up and ran around the room, picking up costumes and props, going behind curtains that Antonio and Feliks pulled down to act as the curtains on a stage. Gilbert popped out from behind the curtains to place a lamp on the floor to give them better lighting for their makeshift stage, Francis pulling the albino back behind the curtains by his feet. Alfred came to the front to act as narrator. He cleared his throat as the lamp was turned on, giving him a spotlight. The blond writer moved aside as the curtains were drawn back, revealing a mountain backdrop and Arthur and Antonio in costume, embracing as the lovers they portrayed.

"_The courtesan and sitar man," _Alfred sang. _"Are pulled apart by an evil plan." _Feliks, dressed in a black cloak to represent the 'evil plan', pushed the two apart.

"_But in the end he hears his song," _Arthur sings back, looking at Alfred.

"_And their love is just too strong,"_ Alfred sang softly as Arthur and Antonio reunite together. The courtesan couldn't help but glance back at the writer again, wondering just how much of this story was true.

Everyone's attention was called back to Ivan when he sang quietly, _"It's a little bit funny, this feeling inside."_ He hadn't missed the looks Alfred and Arthur were giving each other, and he didn't like it very much.

But the others just brushed it off and continued on, _"So exciting the audience will stomp and cheer, so delighting it will run for 50 years." "The sitar player's secret song helps them flee the evil one," _Alfred sang, the acting lovers hiding behind a privacy screen. _"Though the tyrant rants and rails, it is all to no avail."_

Francis finally made his first appearance dressed as the evil Maharaja. "I am the evil Maharaja! You will not escape!"

Arthur, who was bowing at Francis' feet with everyone else, begging for mercy, suddenly sat back up. "Wow, Francis, not bad. You could actually play him."

Francis was surprised the courtesan actually gave him a compliment and smiled, soaking up the praise. "Oh, thank you."

"_So exciting, we'll make them laugh, we'll make them cry. So delighting—"_

"And in the end, should someone die?" Ivan proposed.

The actors looked between each other again, not really wanting anyone to die but not wanting to upset the Duke by shooting down his idea. So they just ignored it for now.

"_So exciting the audience will stomp and cheer, so delighting it will run for 50 years!" _As they dragged out the last note for the finale, they went around the room, taking down their stage decorations. Hearing all the commotion, the Duke's Swedish bodyguard came in to check on things. As soon as the tall scary man passed through the door, Gilbert climbed onto his back and shoulders, bringing the confused man into their ending pose. They all panted for breath, exhausted after running all over the place and singing so much. But they kept their poses, waiting for the Duke's opinion.

Ivan stared at them as he thought of the story as a whole, assessing everyone's waiting expressions. "…Generally, I like it," he said with a smile.

Everyone cheered and ran at the Duke, pulling him into a group hug and celebrating.

* * *

_Bonnefoy had an investor, and the bohemians had a show._

Back at the apartment, the celebration party had begun. Gilbert sat on the roof yelling, "The end of the century! The bohemian revolution is here!" Performers from the Moulin Rouge attended, drinking and dancing like there was no tomorrow.

_While the celebration party raged upstairs, I tried to write. But all I could think about was him._

Alfred sat on the windowsill in his room, his typewriter sitting on the table untouched. He couldn't think about the show. He couldn't come up with anything productive. All he could think about was that beautiful courtesan.

"_How wonderful life is…" _he sang quietly to himself, remembering the magic he felt singing with Arthur.

_Was he thinking about me?_

"_Now you're in…the world…"_

* * *

**Woo! Finally! Another chapter out. After about 1 year and 7 months. I'll start working on the next chapter tomorrow, so just know that I will not give up on this story! Thanks to anyone who has stuck with me on this.**

**Review please!**


	5. Chapter 5

**Hello again! I'm glad some of you are still here and interested in my story. And welcome to some new viewers.**

**On to the chapter!**

* * *

_Welcome to the Moulin Rouge_

'_Duke? I'm not a duke…'_

'_I'm a writer.'_

'_He wasn't trying to trick him.'_

'_It's about love!'_

'_It's about love…overcoming all obstacles…'_

Arthur sat in front of his vanity mirror, thinking about the writer he had met that night. Just like Alfred, he couldn't get the other out of his mind. But he couldn't understand why. Perhaps it was because this bohemian writer made him feel things that he thought he could never feel again. After all, love was just a game to the courtesan, it was always fake. His performance with Alfred was no different. At least Arthur thought so. He was just caught up in the beautiful moment Alfred's song created.

Arthur sighed, adjusting the red floor-length robe he wore as he stood up. He turned away from the mirror and walked to the window at the head of the elephant. He could see Alfred sitting on the balcony in the apartment across the way, unaware that the writer was thinking of him as well.

Alfred looked up and saw Arthur looking at him. He didn't want the other to think he was watching him, so he went back to his typewriter to at least appear busy. Arthur didn't seem to think much of it, since he was doing the same thing Alfred was.

The courtesan tried to get Alfred out of his mind. He knew that the writer wasn't his top priority. He should be thinking about how to please Ivan. The Duke was his ticket out of this place…Arthur did love some things about the Moulin Rouge, but he wanted to be so much more than a cancan dancing prostitute.

"_I…follow…the night…Can't stand…the light," _he sang softly as he moved closer to the window. His efforts to forget about the writer were in vein, as he couldn't take his eyes off the blond who tried to type. "Tried" being the key word, since he kept looking up from his typewriter to gaze back at the courtesan.

"_When will I begin…to live again?"_

Alfred looked at Arthur like he could hear him singing, but Arthur knew that wasn't possible.

"_One day I'll fly away…Leave all this to yesterday."_

The writer stood up from his place in front of his typewriter, giving up on trying to distract himself while Arthur leaned up against the wall, watching him. _"What more could your love do for me? When will love be through with me?"_ There was no benefit in entertaining the idea of being with Alfred, even as an act. Ivan was the key to getting him out. Alfred could do nothing for him.

"_Why live life from dream to dream and dread the day when dreaming ends…?"_

"_How wonderful life is now you're in the world…" _Alfred sang, wanting his feelings to reach the courtesan, hoping he felt the same, even just a little.

Arthur slowly turned away from the window, lifting his robe up a little as he ascended a set of stairs leading to a nice sitting area on the roof of the elephant. He would occasionally look back to Alfred, making sure he was still watching him. But he was disappointed when he saw that the writer was no longer by his window. He turned his head away with his eyes cast downward, pushing the disappointment away. The actor climbed the rest of the way up the stairs to the roof.

"_One day I'll fly away," _he sang out to the heavens. _"Leave all this to yesterday…" _On the back of the elephant, Arthur looked like a regal princess riding through the streets of an Indian kingdom. On the ground below, Alfred stood looking up at Arthur, trying to figure out a way up there. He just had to see Arthur right now. He came up with the same idea Gilbert and the others had; Climb up the rope tail.

"_Why live life from dream to dream and dread the day when dreaming ends?" _Arthur turned and moved to the sitting area, sitting on the steps leading up to it. _"One day I'll fly away…"_ With his back turned to the tail of the elephant, he didn't notice when the writer came up behind him, listening to him sing softly.

"_Fly…fly…away…"_

Alfred sighed dreamily, which caught Arthur's attention as his song ended. The courtesan turned slightly to look behind him. Seeing that there was indeed someone behind him, he jumped up and yelped in surprise.

"Sorry—! " Alfred said quickly. "I didn't mean to—! "

Arthur sighed with relief seeing that it was only Alfred. Secretly the courtesan hoped that the writer would come see him, but now that he was really here he wasn't sure what to say.

"I…I saw your light on and I just wanted to…" Alfred struggled to explain himself for suddenly appearing behind the other like a creep. "I climbed up the—" No, that would only make him sound worse.

"What?" Arthur asked, now wondering how the writer actually got up there if he didn't take the stairs.

"I just…wanted to thank you for helping me get the job," he said, saving himself.

Oh. Of course the writer was being professional, as Arthur should be himself. He wasn't coming up just because he wanted to see him. "Oh, yes. Of course." Arthur smiled, slowly putting his act back up. "Gilbert was right, you're very talented. It's going to be a wonderful show. Anyways, I'd…I'd better go because we have a big day tomorrow." The courtesan turned away and started to walk back to the stairs.

"No! Please wait…"

Arthur stopped in his tracks and sighed, turning back to Alfred to hear what he had to say.

"It's just that…before, when you thought I was the Duke…you said…that you loved me. And I just wanted to know if it was—"

"If it was…an act?" So Alfred had been thinking about it as well after all. The writer was thinking of him. Arthur felt his face start to heat up and his heart start to race. "Of course it was."

Alfred immediately looked dejected, disappointed that it was just him who felt something between them. "Oh…It just…felt real…"

Arthur hesitated, wanting to say something to cheer him up but not knowing how to do that without getting his hopes up. He decided that he would just have to be real with him. "Alfred…I'm a courtesan. I'm paid to make men believe what they want to believe."

Alfred nodded, forcing a smile onto his face. "Silly of me…To think you could fall in love with someone like me."

The courtesan scoffed quietly. "Don't feel bad. I can't fall in love with anyone."

"Can't fall in love?" Alfred questioned, his eyebrows knitting together in confusion. The thought that someone _couldn't _fall in love for whatever reason was just incomprehensible. "But…a life without love, that's terrible!"

"No," Arthur immediately cut in. "Being on the streets, that's terrible."

"No." The writer said it like it was obvious, like there was no possible way he could be wrong about love. The thing for which he had so much passion, the thing he believed in above all thing. He would defend it till the end. "Love is like oxygen."

The courtesan scoffed, looking at Alfred in disbelief that he could think something like love was more important than making a living.

"Love is a many-splendored thing," Alfred continued. "Love lifts us up where we belong, all you need is love!" he said with a large smile, a twinkle of excitement in his eyes.

"Please don't start that again…"

"_All you need is love~" _Alfred sang, moving closer to the courtesan.

"A guy has got to eat," Arthur argued.

"_All you need is love~"_

"He'll end up on the streets!"

"_All you need is love~" _Alfred continued as he circled the other.

It seemed like the writer wasn't even listening to him. It seemed singing was the only way to get through to him now. _"Love is just a game,"_ Arthur gave as a rebuttal.

Alfred grinned. Now that he knew the courtesan had nothing against him personally, but was against love as a whole, he would do anything he could to convince the other that he just had to give it a chance. It seemed to Alfred that the courtesan did feel at least something for him, but wouldn't let himself fall in love. Well Alfred wasn't about to stand by and let the other go on without knowing what real love was. Of course Alfred himself had never been in love, but he was starting to think that what he felt for Arthur might be the beginnings of that special emotion he had always dreamed of experiencing.

The writer jumped down the few steps off the sitting area platform. _"I was made for loving you, baby, you were made for loving me~"_

Arthur scoffed and turned away from the other, going back up the steps. _"The only way of loving me, baby, is to pay a lovely fee."_

Alfred popped his head around a column holding up the canopy, his face inches away from Arthur's, surprising the courtesan. _"Just one night, just one night,"_ he begged.

"_There's no way, 'cause you can't pay!"_ Every time Arthur tried to turn another way, Alfred would be right there to intercept him.

"_In the name of love…One night in the name of love," _Alfred sang, swinging around the column.

Arthur laughed in amusement, leaning up against the column across from the writer. _"You crazy fool…I won't give in to you,"_ he sang as he started to walk away again. But he stopped in his tracks when Alfred called to him again.

"_Don't leave me this way…I can't survive without your sweet love. Oh baby…Don't leave me this way…"_

Arthur regretted looking back at him. Gone were those bright and entertained eyes, now replaced by more serious and pleading ones. They were begging Arthur to give him and love a chance. And he was finding it difficult to resist those eyes. The courtesan turned away again and instead turned his eyes to the stars.

"_You think that people would've had enough of silly love songs…" _he sang softly.

"_I look around me and I see it isn't so. Oh, no…" _Alfred's smile slowly returned. He approached the courtesan again and gently held his chin, turning his face to look at him again.

"_Some people want to fill the world with silly love songs…"_

"_Well what's wrong with that? I'd like to know…"_ Alfred slowly moved his face closer to Arthur's, moving in to kiss him. But Arthur turned away again, not wanting to get sucked in more that he already was. The writer could see Arthur's struggle. He could tell that the courtesan had to fight the urge to let him kiss him. He was winning.

"…_Cause here I go again!" _Alfred ran ahead of Arthur and stood on the elephant's head, holding his arms out to balance himself. He looked as if he was about to sprout wings and fly away. Arthur was not impressed though, shouting in fear that the other might fall.

"_Love lifts us up where we belong!" _he sang loudly for all to hear.

"Get down! Get down!" Arthur yelled.

"_Where eagles fly on a mountain high!"_ Alfred looked back at Arthur, amusement all over his face. The courtesan grabbed his hand, pulling him back off the head and to safety.

"_Love makes us act like we are fools,"_ Arthur sang. Of course this was true; the writer could have killed himself just now. _"Throw our lives away for one happy day."_

"_We could be heroes!"_ he sang as Arthur made his way back to the stairs to go back inside. _"Just for one day."_

"_You…you will be mean."_ At this point Arthur was just making excuses not to give Alfred a try.

"No, I won't," Alfred chuckled, following Arthur down the stairs.

"_And I…I'll drink all the time."_

Alfred grinned, knowing he had won._ "We should be lovers!"_

"_We can't do that…"_ Arthur leaned up against the side of the window. He knew realistically that he couldn't have a lover and still do his job right. He couldn't be faithful. And there was no telling what sort of trouble the both of them could be in if the wrong people found out.

"_We should be lovers and that's a fact."_

But if it were just one night…What harm could that be?

The courtesan looked back up at the writer, having made up his mind. _"Though nothing…will keep us together—"_

"_We could steal time—"_

"_Just for one day," _they sang together. Arthur smiled, the thought of being with someone for love and not money, just because he wanted to, exciting him. Of course he would tell himself that it would be just this once, but somehow he knew that once he accepted it, it wouldn't be so easy to stop.

"_We could be heroes forever and ever."_ They steadily met each other in the middle of the open window. _"We could be heroes forever and ever."_ Alfred slowly moved his hands to the courtesan's waist. _"We could be heroes…"_

"_Just because I will always love you,"_ Alfred sang.

"_I—"_

"_Can't help loving you…" _they sang together.

Arthur could feel fireworks going off in his chest as he looked at the sincerity in Alfred's eyes when he said he would always love him. No one had ever said they loved him. Not really. Anytime a man had said they loved him, they were saying it to a fantasy, someone Arthur was pretending to be. But Alfred loved _him._

"_How wonderful life is…" _Arthur sang softly, now truly understanding the meaning of those words.

"…_Now you're in…the world…"_ they finished together.

The lovers' noses and foreheads touched and Arthur whispered, "You're going to be bad for business, I can tell…" Alfred smiled as he moved to kiss the other. And this time Arthur didn't turn away. He gladly accepted the soft lips against his, wrapping his arms around the writer's neck. The courtesan could feel the fireworks spreading throughout his whole body as their lips moved against each other.

And that was the first night they made love.

* * *

**I thought of making this chapter longer, but I decided to just end it here for now. You'll have to wait until the next chapter.**

**I'm not really sure how else to say this. My father died today. We weren't close, he lived in a different country, but it's still sad. I'm not sure how much I'll be writing for the next week or so. Please be patient with me while I deal with this.**

**Until next time.**


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